#unique sound samples

[soundbank2]

Impact Soundworks – Ventus Native American Flutes Kontakt Library Download

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[carelessmemories]

thinking about how daft punk have stated that they always wanted their music to sound like other people's music and they're known for using samples of others in almost every song and their first album is called homework because they're the students of the musical masters that came before them and their song teachers is them naming all their musical inspirations who made the album possible and throughout their career together they became the masters themselves and and and

[detectivehole]

i absolutely love playing with the data visualizations on citizen dj and creating what is to other people apparently auditory sensory hell but to me is the correct amount of noise anything should make. please try it

[bmpmp3]

i do think its kinda funny when i see someone in the year of our lord 2024 talk about vocal synth music like its all gone downhill since like 2010 because like dont get me wrong i love a good niconicodouga-ass 2008 ass vocaloid joint BUT also like. the past couple years have had the most fascinatingly creative and expressive uses of vocal synthesizers ive ever heard in my life DJFSKHJDFS dont write it all off just yet!!

[cheddar-baby]

I dont think Quelle Chris gets enough attention in general but also this album is one of my favourites of his and it kinda flys under the radar and that makes me sad

[vimbry-moved]

honestly the fact that not all the tracks stewart copeland composed for spyro ended up in the levels he originally conceived them for has driven me wild ever since he mentioned it.

[robotsafari]

i really miss that smrpg vibe from shimomura’s music.

[victoriousakadice]

Unique Beat Created from the Foundation Too the Top of the roof take 1

[jacobthewilliam]

[SPITCUPS] Old School Hip Hop Boom Bap Beat - by WOKE BOY WONDERS

[txttletale]

What I don't get is that other your support of AI image generation, you're SO smart and well read and concerned with ethics. I genuinely looked up to you! So, what, ethics for everyone except for artists, or what? Is animation (my industry, so maybe I care more than the average person) too juvenile and simplistic a medium for you to care about its extinction at the hands of CEOs endorsing AI? This might sound juvenile too, but I'm kinda devastated, because I genuinely thought you were cool. You're either with artists or against us imho, on an issue as large as this, when already the layoffs in the industry are insurmountable for many, despite ongoing attempts to unionize. That user called someone a fascist for pointing this out, too. I guess both of you feel that way about those of us involved in class action lawsuits against AI image generation software.

i can't speak for anyone else or the things they've said or think of anyone. that said:

1. you should not look up to people on the computer. i'm just a girl running a silly little blog.

2. i am an artist across multiple mediums. the 'no true scotsman' bit where 'artists' are people who agree with you and you can discount anyone disagrees with you as 'not an artist' and therefore fundamentally unsympathetic to artists will make it very difficult to actually engage in substantive discussion.

3. i've stated my positions on this many times but i'll do it one more: i support unionization and industrial action. i support working class artists extracting safeguards from their employers against their immiseration by the introduction of AI technology into the work flow (i just made a post about this funnily enough). i think it is Bad for studio execs or publishers or whoever to replace artists with LLMs. However,

4. this is not a unique feature of AI or a unique evil built into the technology. this is just the nature of any technological advance under capitalism, that it will be used to increase productivity, which will push people out of work and use the increased competition for jobs to leverage that precarity into lower wages and worse conditions. the solution to this is not to oppose all advances in technology forever--the solution is to change the economic system under which technologies are leveraged for profit instead of general wellbeing.

5. this all said anyone involved in a class action lawsuit over AI is an enemy of art and everything i value in the world, because these lawsuits are all founded in ridiculous copyright claims that, if legitimated in court, would be cataclysmic for all transformative art--a victory for any of these spurious boondoggles would set a precedent that the bar for '''infringement''' is met by a process that is orders of magnitude less derivative than collage, sampling, found art, cut-ups, and even simple homage and reference. whatever windmills they think they are going to defeat, these people are crusading for the biggest expansion of copyright regime since mickey mouse and anyone who cares at all about art and creativity flourishing should hope they fail.

[reiding-writing]

Cold!reader who defends Spencer when’s someone’s making fun of his autistic traits, and the teams like “what?????”

STAGNANT — SPENCER REID!

why would someone ask spencer a question if they didn’t want to hear the answer?

spencer reid x cold!reader | 1.2k | fluff? | cold!reader masterlist.

main masterlist.

a/n — the cold!reader roster i have atm has me kicking my feet and twirling my hair, stay tuned

You step into the cramped precinct in a town that barely makes the map, the smell of stale coffee and old paper immediately hitting you.

The air hums with tension—murder cases tend to have that effect on a room. Your team disperses, each member diving into their respective tasks like clockwork.

You stay near Spencer, keeping an eye on the board he’s already scouring, his sharp mind undoubtedly miles ahead of everyone else’s.

It doesn’t take long for the local officers to start asking questions. You’ve seen it before: their curiosity morphing into disbelief as they’re confronted with Spencer Reid in full form.

This particular case involves a peculiar type of soil found on the victim’s shoes, and when one officer, a grizzled man named Officer Moore, offhandedly asks about its significance, Spencer lights up.

“It’s fascinating, actually,” he begins, his voice picking up with enthusiasm. “The soil contains traces of montmorillonite clay, which is common in areas with volcanic ash deposits. This specific type is unique to the western side of the county, and based on the composition—” He gestures to the samples bagged on the table, oblivious to the officer’s quickly fading interest.

Spencer continues, lost in his explanation, his words flowing like water over smooth stones. You watch the officer shift uncomfortably, his expression hardening into impatience. The moment Spencer pauses to breathe, Moore cuts in, looking at you with a smirk.

“Is he like this all the time? Never shuts up, huh?”

You freeze. The room, bustling moments ago, seems quieter now. Your team is too far off to hear, but you’re right here. Close enough to feel the sting of the comment.

Spencer doesn’t notice. Or maybe he pretends not to. Either way, it doesn’t sit right with you. The dismissive tone, the condescension dripping from the officer’s words—it sparks a heat under your skin that you don’t bother to hide.

“Are you stupid?” Your voice is sharp, like a knife scraping metal. Moore’s smug expression falters.

“Excuse me-?”

“You heard me,” you continue, stepping closer, your gaze fixed on him. “If you can’t keep up with what Dr. Reid is saying, that’s your problem. He’s giving you answers—solutions—that you clearly wouldn’t find on your own. So maybe try listening instead of running your mouth.”

Moore blinks, taken aback. His hand hovers near the cup of coffee on the table, forgotten. “I didn’t mean—”

“Yeah, you did.” you interrupt, crossing your arms. “And for the record, if he’s too much for you to handle, then stay out of his way, you’ll murk his IQ into single digits.”

The room is quiet now, the subtle hum of computers and distant voices the only sound. Spencer finally looks up, his expression unreadable. There’s a hint of surprise in his eyes, but mostly he just seems... confused.

Moore mutters something under his breath and stalks off, clearly not willing to press the issue further. Good. You watch him go, your blood still simmering.

“You didn’t have to do that,” Spencer says softly, his voice carrying a note of uncertainty.

“Yes, I did,” you reply without hesitation. “He was being a jerk.”

Spencer tilts his head, studying you. “People say things like that all the time.”

“Well, they shouldn’t,” you counter, your tone firm. “And if you wont put your foot down about it then I will.”

For a moment, he just stares at you, as if trying to decipher some hidden code in your words. Then, unexpectedly, he smiles—small and fleeting, but genuine. It feels like a victory, however minor.

—

Later, when the team regroups, the tension in the precinct has eased, though you can still feel a few lingering stares from the local officers.

Hotch gives you all the rundown of the next steps, his voice steady and commanding as always. You nod along, but your focus drifts to Spencer, who’s scribbling something in his notebook, seemingly unbothered by the earlier incident.

As the team breaks off to get to work, Emily sidles up beside you, her dark eyes alight with curiosity. “So,” she begins, drawing out the word. “What was that about?”

“What was what about?” you reply, feigning ignorance.

“That little showdown with Officer Grumpy Pants earlier,” she says, smirking. “Word has it you tore him a new one,”

You shrug. “He was being disrespectful.”

Emily raises an eyebrow. “To Reid?”

“To all of us, honestly,” you say. “But yeah, mostly Reid. He didn’t deserve that.”

Emily studies you for a moment, her smirk softening into something more thoughtful. “Awe how sweet,”

“Don’t start,” you warn, but there’s no real bite to your words. Emily laughs, raising her hands in mock surrender.

“Hey, no judgment,” she says. “It’s just... very human of you.”

“I’m not a robot.”

She gestures vaguely toward you. “Oh hush you know what I mean,”

You roll your eyes but don’t bother arguing. Instead, you glance across the room at Spencer, who’s now deep in conversation with JJ and Rossi. The earlier exchange seems to have rolled off him, as if it never happened.

But you know better. You’ve seen the way comments like that stick, the way they fester in that moment f hesitation before he speaks. You’re not sure why it matters so much to you—why he matters so much—but you don’t dwell on it.

—

The case drags on into the evening, the pieces of the puzzle slowly falling into place. By the time the unsub is in custody and the team is preparing to head back to the jet, exhaustion hangs heavy in the air.

As you gather your things, Morgan claps a hand on your shoulder. “Hey, Ice Queen,” he says, his tone teasing. “You did good.”

“Thank you? I was doing my job.” you reply, shooting him a bemused look.

He chuckles. “Not with the case, sweetness. Word is you went full gladiator on one of the locals earlier.”

“Word travels way too fast in this team,” you mutter.

Morgan grins. “What can I say? We’re a nosy bunch. But it’s nice to know you haven’t lost your bite now you’re saddled up to boy wonder.”

He gestures with his head towards where Spencer was sleeping on the jet’s couch, wrapped in a cheap blanket like baby.

You fight back the urge to smile.

“I never changed,” you say dryly.

Morgan laughs, but there’s a glimmer of respect in his eyes. “Sure you did,”

“No I didn’t,”

He nudges your shoulder, a whisper of “You’ll admit it one day,” before he walks off.

[pukicho]

show us the weirdest little gadget you have that you love

I LOVE GADGETS! Its not so little but I love my Octatrack MKII. I’ve owned the OP-1, Z, M8 tracker, Polyend tracker, and this is my favorite sampling device outta all of them. It has so much hidden depth and cool unique funky ways to process and modulate sounds, both with samples ofc and also LIVE, and you can retrigger via MIDI (u can loop midi back into itself and do live resampling), ho boy its good. Max marco on YouTube showed me what this beast can truly do. Perfect IDM glitchy dnb machine. I also love my two semi modular little synths, the 0-coast and quandrantid swarm

[inkspiredwriting]

Espresso Envy

Five Hargreeves x reader

A/N: I just love jealous five

Warnings: None

Five Hargreeves was not used to feeling insecure. As a seasoned time-traveler, assassin, and occasional apocalypse preventer, he’d faced threats far more daunting than everyday emotions. But watching his wife, Y/n, laugh with the handsome barista at their favorite coffee shop brought out a side of him he wasn’t quite familiar with—jealousy.

It was a sunny Saturday morning, and the small café was bustling with activity. Five and Y/n had settled into a cozy corner, enjoying their rare day off. Y/n had just gone to the counter to get their second round of Coffee’s when Five noticed the interaction.

The barista—let’s call him Chad, because Five immediately decided he looked like a Chad—was tall, with an easy smile and annoyingly perfect hair. Y/n was chatting animatedly with him, her laughter ringing out like a melody that grated on Five’s nerves when paired with Chad’s obvious admiration.

Five narrowed his eyes, feeling an unfamiliar twist in his stomach. Was Y/n flirting with him? Was Chad flirting with her?

Y/n, oblivious to her husband’s inner turmoil, was just asking Chad about the origin of the café’s unique blend. Five knew this because, in between sips of his black Coffee, he had tuned his hearing to pick up their conversation. “It’s nothing,” he told himself. “Just a friendly chat.”

But as the conversation continued and Chad seemed to grow more animated, Five decided he’d had enough. He stood up and sauntered over to the counter, trying to exude casual confidence but managing more of a stiff-legged march.

“Hey, honey,” Five said, slipping an arm around Y/n’s waist a bit too possessively. “Everything okay here?”

Y/n looked up, surprised but smiling. “Hey, Five! I was just talking to Chad about the coffee. He was telling me about this new blend from Guatemala.”

Chad, who clearly had no idea what he was stepping into, gave Five a friendly nod. “It’s a unique roast—very complex, with notes of chocolate and citrus. Would you like to try a sample?”

Five’s eyes narrowed slightly, and he plastered on a tight smile. “No, thanks. I’m not interested in... complicated blends.” He tightened his grip on Y/n, causing her to glance at him quizzically.

“Oh, Five, you should try it!” Y/n said, missing the tension in his voice. “It’s really interesting.”

Five huffed, attempting to sound nonchalant. “I’m more of a classic black coffee guy. Simple. To the point.”

Chad, apparently unbothered by the awkwardness, handed Y/n her latte. “Well, if you change your mind, just let me know. I’m always here.”

Five’s smile turned into a grimace. “Always here, huh?” He cleared his throat. “Yeah, well, we won’t keep you from your important work, Chad. Thanks for the coffee.”

Chad raised an eyebrow, sensing the underlying hostility, but shrugged and returned to his duties. Y/n, meanwhile, was thoroughly confused by Five’s sudden mood swing.

As they returned to their table, Y/n couldn’t help but giggle. “Five, are you... jealous?”

Five scoffed, though his cheeks tinged pink. “Jealous? Me? Absolutely not. Why would I be jealous of some... latte-making, foam-art... Chad?”

Y/n laughed, setting her latte down and reaching for Five’s hand. “Chad is just a barista. A nice one, sure, but it’s not like I’m running off with him.”

Five sighed, feeling a bit sheepish. “I know, I just... I didn’t like how he was looking at you. Or how you were laughing at his stupid coffee jokes.”

Y/n squeezed his hand. “Five, you have nothing to worry about. I love you, not some random guy at a coffee shop. Besides,” she added with a mischievous grin, “you’re much better looking.”

Five’s frown melted into a smirk. “Well, that’s true. But just so you know, if Chad tries anything, he might find himself serving coffee in the Stone Age.”

Y/n laughed, pulling him into a hug. “Noted. But for now, how about we enjoy our coffee and let Chad keep his job?”

Five rolled his eyes, but he couldn’t help but chuckle. “Fine, but I’m keeping an eye on him.”

The next weekend, Y/n dragged Five back to the café, much to his reluctance. “Let’s give it another try,” she said, nudging him playfully.

When they entered, Chad greeted them with a bright smile. “Hey, it’s my favorite couple! What can I get you today?”

Five stiffened but managed a polite nod. “I’ll have a black Coffee.”

Y/n chuckled, ordering her usual latte. As they waited, Five leaned over to whisper in Y/n’s ear. “If he tries to give you a free sample of that Guatemalan blend, I’m dumping it on his head.”

Y/n laughed, kissing his cheek. “You’re ridiculous, you know that?”

Five grinned, wrapping his arm around her waist. “Ridiculously in love with you, maybe.”

As they sipped their drinks, Five’s jealousy faded into the background, replaced by the warmth of Y/n’s laughter and the comfort of their love. Chad, blissfully unaware of the near prehistoric coffee trip he’d narrowly avoided, continued making his foam art, completely oblivious to the small drama he’d unwittingly starred in.

And Five, despite his occasional lapses into jealousy, realized that with Y/n by his side, there was nothing he couldn’t handle—even a charming barista named Chad.

[splatoonusna]

Do you know SashiMori? Despite their lack of a vocalist, DJ Paul collages unique voices from ancient records that contrast with traditional marine critter sounds to create the melodies. This fresh sound is all the rage, and it's a regular on the Splatsville radio waves.

When he first joined SashiMori DJ Paul had a childlike innocence, but now he's 16 years old. Their latest song "Seasource" features a vocal sample that "expresses an innocence that transcends barriers." These vocals combined with a loud rapid-fire beat explore new sonic ground!

[seoulzie]

ditched and delirious

SYNOPSIS: deserted by your friends in the chilling haunted house, you bump into yeonjun, another soul stranded in the same spooky predicament.

彡 pairing: stranger!yeonjun x reader 彡 genre: crack, fluff 彡 warnings: jumpscares & a lil romantic tension ;)

SEUL SPEAKS! this is based on something that actually happened to me except i never got my candied apples so im turning my trauma into purpose !!

halloween had always been a magical time for you. ever since you were a child, the arrival of october brought an unparalleled sense of excitement and anticipation. the crisp autumn air, filled with the scent of fallen leaves and pumpkin spice, made everything feel more vibrant and alive. you loved how the world transformed, embracing the whimsical and the spooky with equal enthusiasm.

each year, you meticulously planned your halloween costume, often starting weeks in advance. you enjoyed every step of the process, from brainstorming ideas to putting the finishing touches on your outfit. the creativity and imagination that halloween inspired were unmatched by any other holiday. the colorful costumes, from classic witches and vampires to more unique and creative characters, always fascinated you. walking down the streets and seeing the array of costumes made you feel like you were part of a grand, fantastical story.

this year was no different. you had been looking forward to halloween for months, and your friends had been buzzing with excitement about the new amusement park that had recently opened in town. the park promised an unforgettable experience with its elaborate halloween decorations, spooky attractions, and, most notably, the scariest haunted house in the area. despite your initial reservations about haunted houses, your friends' infectious enthusiasm was hard to resist.

the amusement park was a sight to behold. as you and your friends entered, you were greeted by towering scarecrows, giant inflatable pumpkins, and cobwebs that seemed to stretch endlessly. the air was filled with the sound of eerie music and the occasional scream from one of the haunted attractions. everywhere you looked, there were people dressed in costumes, their faces lit up with excitement and anticipation.

your group had arrived early in the afternoon to make the most of the day. you rode roller coasters that twisted and turned, leaving your heart racing and your adrenaline pumping. the feeling of the wind in your hair and the weightless drops made you scream and laugh in equal measure. between the rides, you indulged in the array of carnival food. you couldn't resist the smell of freshly made funnel cakes, and you and your friends shared cotton candy and funnel cakes, making sure to sample a little bit of everything.

the games were another highlight of the day. you tried your hand at the ring toss, aimed for the highest score at the shooting gallery, and even managed to win a small stuffed ghost at the balloon dart game. each victory, no matter how small, was celebrated with cheers and high fives. the carefree fun of the amusement park made you forget your initial hesitations about the haunted house.

as the sun began to set, the park transformed. the cheerful, bright atmosphere of the day gave way to a more mysterious and eerie vibe. strings of orange and purple lights illuminated the pathways, casting a haunting glow. fog machines created an otherworldly mist that floated around your feet, and the sound of distant, ghostly laughter echoed through the air.

the anticipation for the haunted house grew with each passing hour. your friends couldn't stop talking about it, sharing stories of previous haunted house experiences and speculating about what horrors awaited inside. they showed you pictures from the amusement park's website, showcasing the elaborate and terrifying decorations that awaited you. 

by the time you made your way to the entrance of the haunted house, the sky was dark, and the moon hung high, casting a pale light over the park. the haunted house stood before you, a massive, decrepit mansion with eerie lights flickering in the windows and fog rolling down the steps. the intricate decorations were both impressive and terrifying, creating an atmosphere that sent a shiver down your spine.

"are we really doing this?" you asked, trying to sound braver than you felt.

"come on, it'll be fun!" one of your friends said, giving you a reassuring nudge. you noticed the mischievous glint in their eyes but brushed it off, thinking they were just excited. they had been talking about this haunted house for weeks, hyping it up with stories of how terrifying and thrilling it was supposed to be. you tried to feed off their enthusiasm, but the knot of anxiety in your stomach only tightened.

as you took a tentative step forward, the creaking of the gate made you jump. your friends laughed, their faces lit up with excitement and anticipation. you forced a smile, hoping to mirror their bravery, but inside, you were already regretting your decision. the ticket taker at the entrance, dressed in tattered victorian clothing and sporting a disturbingly realistic ghostly pallor, handed you your tickets with a sinister grin.

"enjoy your stay," he said in a low, gravelly voice that sent chills down your spine.

with a deep breath, you stepped inside. the moment you crossed the threshold, the temperature seemed to drop, and the atmosphere became even more oppressive. the sound of creaking doors and distant screams filled the air, creating an unsettling symphony of terror. dim, flickering lights barely illuminated the narrow, winding corridors, casting long, eerie shadows that danced on the walls.

you clung to your friends, trying to steady your nerves. every corner seemed to hold a new horror, from ghastly apparitions that materialized out of thin air to grotesque figures that lunged at you from hidden alcoves. the haunted house was a labyrinth of terror, with each turn bringing fresh waves of fear. the animatronics were disturbingly lifelike, their movements jerky and unnatural, their eyes following you with a malevolent gleam.

as you navigated through the dark, narrow hallways filled with jump scares and creepy animatronics, you realized something alarming: your friends were nowhere to be found. panic set in as you spun around, calling out their names, but the only response was the echo of your voice and the occasional sinister laugh from the haunted house's speakers. your heart pounded in your chest, and you felt the walls closing in. alone in the haunted house, every shadow seemed to move, and every sound made you jump.

the narrow hallway you found yourself in was lined with portraits whose eyes seemed to follow your every move. the floorboards creaked ominously underfoot, and the walls seemed to close in with each step you took. you turned a corner and found yourself face-to-face with a mirror. in the dim light, your reflection appeared ghostly and distorted. a flicker of movement behind you made you whirl around, but there was nothing there.

"guys? this isn't funny!" you called out, your voice echoing back at you. a cold sweat trickled down your back as the realization set in that your friends had deliberately left you alone as part of a prank. the mischievous glint in their eyes earlier suddenly made sense, and you felt a mix of fear and anger. you were stuck in a nightmare, and your friends were nowhere to be found.

you tried to retrace your steps, but the layout of the haunted house was disorienting. every hallway looked the same, and the constant barrage of scares kept you on edge. a mechanical zombie lunged out of the darkness, its eyes glowing a sickly green. you stumbled back, your heart racing, and took a wrong turn into a room filled with fog.

the fog was thick, swirling around your ankles and making it difficult to see more than a few feet ahead. the room was eerily quiet, the only sound the soft whisper of the fog machine. you moved cautiously, every sense on high alert. the fog seemed to part just enough to reveal a path, and you followed it, hoping it would lead you to an exit or at least a familiar part of the house.

as you navigated through the fog-filled room, you felt a growing sense of unease. shadows moved at the edge of your vision, and you couldn't shake the feeling that you were being watched. you heard a faint, rhythmic tapping, like fingernails on glass, and your nerves frayed further. you moved faster, desperate to find your way out of this nightmare.

suddenly, you bumped into someone, and you screamed. the impact sent you stumbling back, and you barely managed to catch yourself before falling. your heart raced as you spun around to face whoever you had collided with.

standing there, looking just as startled as you felt, was a tall, handsome guy with dark hair and wide, frightened eyes. despite the spooky atmosphere, his presence was more comforting than anything else in the haunted house. 

"oh my god, i'm so sorry!" you exclaimed, your voice trembling. "i didn't see you there."

"it's okay," he replied, his voice just as shaky. "i wasn't expecting to run into anyone either."

you both stood there for a moment, catching your breath. the dim light and swirling fog made it difficult to see clearly, but you could tell that he was just as scared as you were.

"i'm y/n," you said, trying to break the tension. "are you here alone too?"

"yeah, my friends thought it would be funny to ditch me," he replied with a nervous laugh. "i'm yeonjun, by the way."

"nice to meet you, yeonjun," you said, managing a small smile. "i guess we're both in the same boat then."

yeonjun nodded, his expression softening. "it seems that way. how about we stick together? it might be less terrifying if we're not alone."

you agreed, feeling a bit of the tension ease. having someone with you, even a stranger, made the haunted house seem a little less menacing. as you started to move through the fog-filled room together, you felt a sense of camaraderie forming.

"have you been through one of these before?" yeonjun asked, his voice breaking the silence.

"not one this intense," you admitted. "i've always liked halloween, but haunted houses have never been my thing. what about you?"

"same here," yeonjun said. "i usually avoid them, but my friends convinced me this time. i didn't think they'd actually leave me here alone."

"me neither," you said, shaking your head. "i thought it was just going to be a fun night out."

you both laughed, the sound a welcome relief from the constant tension of the haunted house. as you continued to talk, you felt yourself relaxing a bit more. yeonjun's presence was comforting, and the conversation helped to distract you from the scares lurking around every corner.

just as you started to feel a bit more at ease, a loud bang echoed through the room, followed by a figure lunging out of the darkness. you screamed and instinctively threw yourself at yeonjun. he yelped in surprise, his arms wrapping around you protectively.

for a moment, you both stood there, clinging to each other, hearts racing. then you realized that the figure was just another animatronic, and you couldn't help but laugh at the absurdity of it all.

"you scared me more than that clown!" yeonjun said, trying to catch his breath.

"i could say the same about you!" you replied, still giggling.

the shared scare broke the ice completely. as you continued, you noticed that yeonjun, despite his initial fear, was trying his best to be brave for you. his attempts at bravery were endearing, and you felt a growing fondness for him.

the haunted house continued to challenge your nerves with more intense scares and intricate scenes. at one point, you found yourselves in a room filled with eerie whispers and dim candlelight. yeonjun took your hand, giving it a reassuring squeeze.

"just a little longer," he said softly.

as you cautiously moved forward, the floor suddenly erupted with the sound of firecrackers being stepped on. startled, both of you began jumping around in panic, but each step only caused more firecrackers to go off. the room echoed with the cracking sounds, creating a chaotic symphony that made it hard to think straight.

"fuck!" you screamed, trying to find a safe spot to stand, but the relentless popping continued.

"watch out!" yeonjun shouted, but it was too late. both of you stumbled over your feet, finally collapsing onto the ground and catching your breath. lying there, you couldn’t help but laugh at the situation's absurdity, the initial fear giving way to a sense of shared relief.

the next room plunged you into suffocating darkness. a sound, like nails scraping bone, skittered across the floor. yeonjun's grip on your hand tightened, his fingers digging into your palm. you shuffled forward, your fear a distant echo compared to the cold dread radiating off him.

suddenly, a figure lunged at you from the shadows, and you both screamed in unison, clutching onto each other in a moment of pure terror.

yeonjun's reaction was immediate and instinctive. without thinking, he pulled you in front of him, using you as a shield against the approaching figure. his heart pounded wildly against your back as he pressed you protectively against himself, his whole body trembling with fear.

you could feel his ragged breath against your neck, and it matched the frantic rhythm of your own heartbeat. the figure hesitated, realizing the scare had backfired, and retreated into the darkness, leaving behind an eerie silence.

for a moment, you both stood frozen, the adrenaline still coursing through your veins. then, with shaky breaths, you turned to face each other in the dim light filtering through the fog.

"sorry," yeonjun muttered, his voice barely audible. "i... i panicked."

"it's okay," you assured him softly, turning to face him with a comforting smile despite the lingering fear.

you took a few deep breaths to steady your nerves before cautiously continuing through the haunted house.

"you know," yeonjun said, trying to lighten the mood, "if we survive this, we should definitely get some candied apples together."

"i'd like that," you replied, smiling despite the lingering fear.

as you walked out of the haunted house hand in hand, relieved to be out of the terrifying atmosphere, you noticed your friends waiting eagerly outside. their faces lit up with anticipation, ready to catch your reaction to the scare fest they had orchestrated.

instead, their expressions turned from anticipation to utter bafflement as they watched you and yeonjun approach, hands intertwined. you could practically see the question marks forming over their heads as they exchanged confused glances.

"hey, guys," you greeted them casually, trying to ignore their bewildered stares. "meet yeonjun. we... uh, ran into each other inside."

yeonjun smiled warmly at your friends, his hand still firmly clasped in yours. "nice to meet you all."

your friends managed awkward hellos in response, still processing the unexpected turn of events. they had planned to prank you, not witness you leaving the haunted house hand in hand with a guy you had just met inside.

"we were just about to head over to the carnival games," one of your friends finally managed to say, trying to break the awkward silence. they shot you a playful grin, eyebrows raised suggestively.

"yeah, come join us," another friend chimed in hastily, shooting you a curious glance. "or are you two planning to haunt the rest of the park together?"

you chuckled nervously, feeling the heat rise in your cheeks. glancing at yeonjun, you couldn't help but ask, "what about your friends?"

yeonjun shrugged nonchalantly, a mischievous glint in his eye. "man, forget them," he replied with a grin. "they ditched me back there in that house."

your friends exchanged surprised glances, not expecting such a blunt response. "looks like you're stuck with her now!" one of them teased with a laugh.

"we'll be by the carousel if you need us," another friend chimed in playfully, "just one call away!"

as your friends started walking away, you and yeonjun started walking toward the direction of the candied apples stand, and you heard your friends' laughter trailing behind you.

"so, about those apples?" yeonjun nudged you gently, a playful glint in his eyes.

you chuckled, feeling a surge of excitement at the thought of spending more time with him. "lead the way."

with each step, hand in hand, you and yeonjun continued down the path illuminated by twinkling halloween lights, anticipating a cozy and memorable end to your adventurous night.

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© 2024 seoulzie

[jadeshifting]

— UNIQUELY CHARACTERIZING YOURSELF ( SMALL, IMPORTANT DETAILS )

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GROUNDING THROUGH DETAILS OF THE SELF

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justifiably, so much focus in scripting lies in who you’re friends with, who your s/o is and what experiences you have together, your house and your belongings—but what about you? not just superpowers or your vast ocean of clothes (way fun), but the littlest details of the self. let’s talk about grounding yourself in this new reality. are you glitter-dusted nail polish that catches the light, or someone with chipped black nails because it’s chic that way? does your laugh sound like a giggle, or is it that obnoxiously loud cackle everyone secretly loves?

in a similar vein to why there’s often a focus on scripting imperfections (realism, grounding, etc) these small, “whatever” details are just as valuable in the same way. you’re anchoring your energy into this version of you, “i’m here, I exist, and i know myself inside-out.” you’re not just some flat character with a Pinterest-worthy life; you’re layered, real, and unforgettable. these little things? they build your presence and make you magnetic in any reality (which you’d be anyway bffr)

HOW DO YOU SMELL? WHAT FLAVOR IS YOUR CHAPSTICK?

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what’s your vibe in this reality? are you wafting off warm vanilla sugar with a hint of cinnamon, or are you giving off expensive oud and a mystery nobody can place? your scent is a defining extension of your personality, babe, and it sets the tone for everything

chapstick—don’t brush off the details. classic cherry, elegant honey pear, or something wild like coconut-lime mojito? it seems small, but trust—this stuff pulls you deeper into your desired reality because it’s so you. smelling like the softest cashmere or tasting your own minty-fresh lip balm is an everyday, arguably mundane thing that is absurdly easy as a tool to connect you to this version of yourself, and by extension the reality that version of yourself originates in

when you can feel how your lips taste or how your perfume clings to your skin in this new reality? you’re no longer daydreaming, you’re living it. besides, being the central character to your entire narrative doesn’t just come from looking the part—smell it, taste it, own it.

TRYING ON DIFFERENT IDENTITIES

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(maybe a less compellingly whimsical reason, but something i’m championing for nonetheless.) switch it UP, babe—WHY NOT? one reality you’re in streetwear with an absolutely leveling glare, and in another you could be cottagecore princess snow white who bakes pies and writes love letters. you DON’T have to stick to one flavor when you can sample the whole menu! think of it like a cosmic dress-up game.

while it’s easy to find comfort in a familiar and ideal version of yourself (pick out a reality where i’m not violently off-putting in a very strange way but beautiful enough to excuse it. i’ll wait), EVERY version of you has something to teach, and a plethora of things you can learn from them.

it’s not about locking yourself into one box. it’s about experimenting, playing, and experiencing all the endless versions of you that you have access to (infinity, thanks)—whether that’s sipping matcha in Florence or running barefoot on a sandy beach. shifting isn’t just moving into a different reality; it’s stepping into endless versions of you.

THE SUM +/=

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don’t gloss over the seemingly inconsequential details of the self. if you’re asked about someone you love and know intimately, you probably wouldn’t be like “they have tons of clothes and make so much money” (if they do, good for them tho), the first things that come to mind would be “smaller” (read: everyday things, as a result—MORE important.)

“they talk in their sleep, it’s so funny when we have sleepovers” “they always say yes when someone asks them for help” “they have this one necklace that they wear every day” “they love this one specific poet, they can practically quote her from memory” “they wear gold, not silver”

small things. it isn’t characteristics like bravery, sense of humor, and kindness that serve as the only three blocks to build a linear vertical tower of identity. it’s tiny qualities and characteristics and mannerisms, each seemingly the size of a grain of sand, that compound into the beach that is your identity. don’t gloss over them !! don’t be shy to envision the tiniest things about yourself.

much love !! xx :^)

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